Ultra Responsibility (My Hero Academia X Spider-Man Reader)

Issue 105 - People Get Up and Drive Your Funky Soul

The holding cell door opened with a heavy click.

Chui Bacharu looked up from the bench, blinking like she had forgotten what that sound meant. For a few seconds, she did not move. She just stared at the open door, waiting for someone to bark an order, waiting for the next bad thing to come wrapped in official paperwork.

Instead, the police commissioner stood there himself.

Kenji adjusted his tie and gave her a small nod.

"Miss Bacharu."

Chui slowly stood, rubbing one wrist, then the other. They were not cuffed anymore, but they still felt like they should be.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Am I being moved or something?"

"You're free to go."

The words did not land properly.

Chui stared at him.

"I'm what?"

"Free to go," Kenji repeated. "The paperwork has already been signed by Mr. Barton."

"Barton?" she muttered, more confused than relieved.

A guard handed her a small bag with her belongings inside. Phone. Wallet. A few hairpins. One half-dead pack of gum. She took it carefully, still waiting for the punchline.

None came.

Kenji stepped aside.

Chui walked out of the holding area slowly, then through the front doors of the police station.

The sun hit her hard.

She lifted a hand over her eyes and squinted against it. Fresh air filled her lungs, colder than she expected, sharper than she remembered.

Then she saw the limo.

Black. Sleek. Expensive enough to make the entire police station look like it owed it rent.

A driver stood beside it and opened the rear door for her.

Chui stopped on the pavement.

"No way," she whispered.

The driver gestured politely.

She looked back at Kenji, but he had already turned away, leaving her with nothing but the open door and a future she had not expected to get.

Chui climbed in.

*****

I sat inside with one leg crossed over the other, dressed in casual clothes, a can of Coke held in one hand like I had planned the whole scene down to the dramatic lighting. Beside me, Hawkeye leaned back with the exhausted expression of a man who had signed too many forms and hated every single one.

I couldn't help smiling the second she climbed in.

"Hey, Chui."

Her face went through about six emotions before settling somewhere between shock and trying very hard not to cry.

She looked at me.

Then Hawkeye.

Then me again.

"What is this?" she asked, but the smile was already breaking through.

I leaned back against the seat, trying not to look too smug and absolutely failing.

"I promised I'd find an agency willing to take you on," I said. "And if I did, you'd be released."

Chui's head snapped toward Hawkeye so fast I thought she might hurt her neck.

"You didn't," she whispered.